MISTRESS OF THE DARK LORD: An Augury Origin Tale (1)
by Amandah Leigh
Summary: When Bellatrix discovers she's pregnant and can't control her emotions the way she used to, she looks to her sister for advice. No, not Narcissa. The other one. (WARNING: Dark fic with mature and potentially disturbing content. Not for readers under 17. Takes place in Sept 1997, includes Cursed Child spoilers.) Bellatrix/Voldemort
1. Chapter 1: Sick

**MISTRESS OF THE DARK LORD:**

 **An Augury Origin Tale**

Description & Disclaimer:

When Bellatrix discovers she's pregnant and can't control her emotions the way she used to, she looks to her sister for advice. No, not Narcissa. The other one.

During their lengthy, alcohol-aided conversation, estranged sisters Bellatrix and Andromeda reminisce on dark times in the Black family past, reflect on the moments they'd met the men they'd later love, discuss the dangers of pregnancy, and each question the other's loyalties… while struggling over their own.

No trigger warnings (because I don't believe in them as an author nor do I appreciate them as a reader) but if dark, disturbing themes and sexual violence bother you, or if you're under 17, you should not read – this is about the relationship between Bellatrix and Andromeda but also about the relationship between Bellatrix and Voldemort, the first in a planned short series. It's not a fluff fic.

Obviously I don't own HP or related content (I wish!). Reviews greatly appreciated! Thanks.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE:**

 **Sick**

"What's wrong with you?" asked Rodolphus, staring at his wife across the dining room table at Malfoy Manor.

He knew she wouldn't be happy to learn they were out of jam, but to cry over it? Bellatrix never cried. Over anything. He couldn't even remember her crying on their first day in Azkaban, when he and his brother had both wailed like toddlers protesting naptime while she seemed to see her sentencing and imprisonment as a source of pride, a fact not lost on the Dark Lord when He returned.

"Go to hell!" Bellatrix slammed her hand down on the table so hard the silverware rattled. "There's not a bloody thing wrong with me. What's wrong with you is that your small mind forgot to get the jam."

"Had a bit else on my mind. The Wizarding World is preparing for war – or hadn't you noticed?"

"Go to hell," she said again. "Expected to prepare for war but can't manage to remember the jam. Fat lot of good you'll be. I thought that last battle with Potter broke your leg, not your brain."

"I don't think a jar of jelly will be responsible for the demise of Potter, Bellatrix."

She glared at him, dark eyes flashing madly.

"No, but it may well factor into yours."

"Psycho, that's what you are," muttered Rodolphus, returning to his Daily Prophet and toast. Bellatrix picked up her tiny porcelain tea cup and chucked it in his general direction. He ducked and it shattered against the wall behind him, which just made her angrier.

"Fuck!"

"What's all the noise?" asked Narcissa as she entered the kitchen, looking concerned. Followed closely behind her was her husband, Lucius.

"Ask her," snapped Rodolphus. "She's gone round the bend, crying over jam."

"I don't cry!"

"Are you feeling alright?" Narcissa tried to place her hand on her sister's forehead but Bellatrix pulled away. "You weren't feeling well yesterday or the day before. Actually, you've been a bit off for the last couple of weeks. Perhaps you're coming down with something. You look paler than usual. Sickly."

"Nonsense," said Lucius. "She looks fine to me." He smiled at Bellatrix in that way he always used to – half like he was afraid of her, and half like he wanted to take her to bed – before their relationship, if it could be called that, deteriorated fully into one of mutual loathing.

Bellatrix hated that smile.

While she wasn't exactly crazy about the mess she'd married, at least she could be confident he wasn't fucking everything that moved behind her back, unlike her brother-in-law. Why Narcissa put up with him she didn't know. No, that wasn't quite true. She knew. Narcissa put up with him because he was a Malfoy, a well-respected wealthy man from a notable pureblood family, a man with whom she could enjoy both status and security (save for that nasty mishap in the Ministry last year, which led to Lucius being sent to Azkaban thanks to The-Brat-Who-Lived). Bellatrix supposed she could understand her sister's uncanny ability to entirely overlook each of Lucius' many affairs, though she would never allow herself to be disrespected in that way. It was bad enough that she allowed herself to remain with a man who could live with knowing his wife was screwing around and didn't seem a bit bothered by it.

What was wrong with him anyway?

Most men would hit the roof if they so much as suspected their wife was shacking up behind their backs, but when she first told him of her intentions to do just that, mere months after they were married in June, 1973, he said "Do what you feel you have to." That was all. "Do what you feel you have to."

And later, much later, after they'd broken free from Azkaban, once they'd brought back the Dark Lord and once it started to seem that their side would overtake Dumbledore and his Muggle-loving army, when she told Rodolphus in no uncertain terms that she intended to return to the embrace of the man with whom she'd long cuckolded him, her pathetic husband merely shrugged again and replied, "If you'd like." As if she were telling him they'd be having pasta for dinner. "If you'd like."

Not that he could've stopped her anyway. She did what she wished. She had a problem with authority figures. Always had. And no man would be stupid enough to deny the Dark Lord his requested pleasure. But if might have been nice if her husband had at least pretended to protest.

After breakfast, of which Bellatrix ate no more, she returned to the bedroom she and Rodolphus were sharing in Malfoy Manor. She had been planning to change to go out for the day, but a swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach overwhelmed her and moments later she was rushing to the toilet to throw up. Again. For the ninth time in two weeks. She was hunched over, still dry-heaving, when she felt a hand on her back. Narcissa.

Dammit, she'd forgotten to charm the door locked.

"You're not well," said Narcissa simply, rubbing her hand in comforting circles. "Should we talk about it? I know… I think I know… what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong."

"Bella."

"Cissy."

"You can talk to me."

"I've nothing to talk about."

"Fine." Narcissa gathered her sister's hair back away from her face and the toilet as Bellatrix dry-heaved again. Using her wand, Narcissa tied the hair back in a low ponytail with a green ribbon. The look was a bit odd on the elder sister, whose untamed black hair was as much a part of her post-Azkaban image as her heavy-lidded eyes, gaunt face, and slim frame.

"You were quite pretty when we were younger, you know," said Narcissa, who then clapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I was quite pretty," Bellatrix agreed, sounding… not at all like herself. Her voice wasn't harsh or sarcastic or angry, as Narcissa might have expected. On the contrary, she sounded sad. Perhaps even remorseful. "He found me very attractive, you know. Always. He told me. Back then… before… before that damn prophecy, before that dreadful baby with his wretched scar. He didn't love me, not in the way I loved Him, but it didn't matter. He desired me. Only me. Only I was ever worthy of Him in that way. He'd use others, sometimes, but that was to assert his dominance over them, to remind them of their place. With me… back then… you wouldn't know Him. It's not the same now. He still wants me on occasion. Physically, He wants me. But it's not at all the same."

"The Dark Lord?" Immediately Narcissa realized she'd said the wrong thing.

"What business is it of yours?" asked Bellatrix, her harsh voice back to normal. She stood up, flushed the toilet, and used a charm to clean out her mouth. "What right do you have to pry into my business, baby sister?"

"I'm sorry, Bella."

"You should be. Get out. Go. I need… I have a lot to do today."

"Of course." Narcissa found herself ducking her head, as if a servant bowing to her master. It made her crazy, having to act inferior to anyone, particularly her own flesh and blood, but that's the way it had always been with them, even in childhood. Bellatrix was the protector of her younger sisters, but that position came with a price, and the cost was the knowledge that they were beneath her. Though the two were close in many ways, especially after their parents cast out Andromeda, Bellatrix never hid the fact that she felt she was on a pedestal above everyone. Above her relatives, above other Slytherins, and later, above other Death Eaters, especially their wives… Everyone including her own sister. She was, after all, His chosen one. For the first ten years after she joined the Death Eaters, He avoided putting her in harm's way, but spent more time coaching and training her than He had anyone else. He taught her Occlumency, Legilimency, wandless magic, to perform the Unforgivable Curses, to conjure the Dark Mark in the sky. He taught her how to satisfy a man. How to satisfy a woman. He taught her how to do what He liked. He invested in her.

Once Narcissa was back downstairs and Bella was again alone, this time with the door locked, she started to get dressed. Suddenly, though, she felt exhausted. Physically and emotionally. She decided a teensy rest on the bed couldn't hurt. Lying on her back, staring at the ornate ceiling, she absentmindedly let her hands run over her lower belly, where, even though she couldn't see a significant change yet, she knew it was growing. Would He be pleased? She wanted to please Him. And He had suggested she be "less careful" with Him, when it came to those matters. He had additionally demanded she refrain from giving herself to her husband or anybody else until further notice, which was hardly a sacrifice, especially considering her husband had still been in Azkaban at the time. Not that it would've been difficult to abstain from sex with him even if he weren't in prison. Hell, she'd been avoiding going to bed with Rodolphus since the day they got married – and she wasn't looking for any reason to increase their intimate encounter times now, nor was she on the prowl for others.

She couldn't ask Him, but she had the distinct feeling this is what He wanted. But why? She wasn't stupid. She knew they weren't traditionally in love so it wasn't romantic. They weren't married so it wasn't her duty. It certainly wasn't to express or reveal their feelings for each other or to see what they could create together.

He wanted an heir. That had to be it.

Why now?

What happened when Dumbledore died?

That was the night everything changed. The night He changed. Not that she minded.

Dumbledore was dead.

He was pleased. More than pleased.

He was insatiable.

The way He used to be.

And she was more than willing.

But she couldn't deny something was different.

During the first war, between 1968 and 1981, He'd been abundantly clear that she was not to let this happen, not under any circumstances. Once, maybe a year before the Potter boy was born, she realized she had screwed up. She suspected she was expecting and quite frankly she wasn't sure whether it was His or her husband's, so she told Him first, and He flew into a rage. He grabbed her by her hair, threw her roughly onto the bed, and hit her several times, not with magic, but with his fists. When He finally backed away, her left eye was swollen, there were red marks along her throat, and she was bleeding from her lip and nose. Then He hit her again, this time with the strongest Cruciatus Curse she'd ever had to withstand.

When the abuse was finally over, He subsequently assured her there would be more pain to come if she didn't take care of the problem.

So she sought assistance from a trusted mediwitch.

Together, they took care of the problem.

And again He seemed pleased.

And they resumed their normal ways.

More carefully.

She was in love with Him. Of that much she was certain. And the thought of carrying His offspring inside her filled her with happiness and pride. But what if she'd read Him wrong? What if it was not at all what He wanted? What if He turned on her again, beat her like before, made her get rid of it? On the bed, still resting her hand on her abdomen, Bella's eyes filled with tears.

Fuck.

Bellatrix never cried. Not for her child, not as a child, not when Father died. Not when Mother died.

But the night her beloved Dark Lord was defeated by that scar-marked baby?

She locked herself in a room and screamed and sobbed and broke anything and everything she could. She cried not only for what could have been for the Wizarding World but for what could have been for her. Her womb had never felt more empty before, not even when that mediwitch was done with her. She was nearly certain she'd never see her Master again and had lost her only chance to carry inside her half of Him. She couldn't give up hope. Not yet. She wanted to find Him, to restore Him to health, to bring Him back, to lay with Him again. She cried because she wasn't sure whether there was any reason to have that hope. No one had ever survived the Killing Curse. No one had ever had it rebound that way. No one. So she cried until she had no tears left. Then she'd dried her eyes, changed her clothes, gathered her husband, brother-in-law, and another young Death Eater, and went out looking for revenge. Well, technically they were out looking for information, seeking any possible way to find and fix their former master, but revenge… it felt so good. Torturing the Longbottoms, it felt so good. She hit them with hexes and curses He'd taught her, a few He'd developed himself, and, of course, the Cruciatus, over and over and over. Watching them writhe in pain made her feel closer to Him.

Even when their fat-kneed baby toddled into the room, when he looked up and saw them tormenting his drooling father and dumbstruck mother, even when that one-year-old started to cry, she felt good. For a moment. She felt good for a moment, and then that empty feeling crept into her womb again and suddenly she couldn't stand his tears.

She grabbed him by his pudgy arm and yanked him roughly from the living room into the hall. Pointing her wand directly at the space between his eyes, she murmured, "Obliviate."

His expression went blank.

"Bellatrix, what the hell are you doing?" called her brother-in-law, Rabastan. "We've got to get out of here."

Baby Neville, his eyes still unfocused, reached up toward Bellatrix, fat fingers wiggling, as if she might pick him up, might comfort him in his confusion. For a wild moment, she considered it. Then, for reasons even she couldn't put into words, Bellatrix slapped baby Neville hard across the face. His blank expression dissipated, replaced by tears.

"Mama!" he wailed.

"Until we meet again," she whispered.

"Bellatrix!" She made it back to the living room, but the disapparation charms were already in place – Ministry Aurors had arrived. They were caught.

On the bed in Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix replayed this scene over and over again in her head. Wittle baby Longbottom, sniveling and wailing in the hall of his home after witnessing the torture of his parents, which he would never remember, thanks to her. Why had she done it? Why erase his memory? Why ease his pain? The charm she'd hit him with was so strong she'd have been surprised to learn he could still respond to his own name after that, but she'd done it so his last memory of his parents wouldn't be of seeing them being tortured into endless insanity. Why did she want to pick him up? Why had she slapped him? Why couldn't she stand his blank baby eyes staring up at her, almost as if dead? Her own eyes filled yet again with tears.

Damn it.

If the next seven-or-so months would be like this, she'd lose her reputation as a bloodthirsty sadist and lover of torture and be relegated to… to… to… to being nothing but a trophy wife, like her sister, stuck away from the action, existing only to provide emotional support (and occasional physical release) to the men doing the real fighting.

The notion disgusted her, as did the tears now escaping from the corners of her eyes. She was acting like such a girl! She shook her head, trying to erase the mental image, trying to wrap her brain around what to do next. She had to tell Him, of course. Him, and no one else. She hoped He would be pleased. She hoped she'd read His signals correctly. She hoped He'd still want to fuck her once He knew. She hoped He might want even more.

She'd been obsessed with Him for so long.

They'd met in a pub down on Knockturn Alley when she was barely seventeen, about to start her final year at Hogwarts. He was still handsome then (thought, quite honestly, she still found Him handsome now, despite his bald head, sallow skin, and lack of nose). He was 41 years old and as charming as He'd been back during his Slug Club days. It was 1968. He wasn't quite to the world as Lord Voldemort yet. He was quiet with His identity, despite already having left Tom Riddle behind. He was still gathering followers and gaining power, but on the sly. He'd actually been gathering followers since His own days at Hogwarts, and He was planning something big.

She was wearing a form-fitting black dress with a corset top and lace overlay bottom that had once belonged to Sirius' mother, her aunt, who gave it to her when she was finally forced to accept she'd never have a girl. He was wearing floor-length dark gray robes over a Muggle suit, which He explained by saying, "It was necessary in order to fit in around London today, on business." It was clear from His tone that He resented this.

When He first spotted her, she was sitting alone at a table, nursing a firewhiskey, which burned her throat as it went down. She rarely got any alone time at home or at Hogwarts so she was trying to enjoy it. She also rarely had any interest in alcohol but wanted to appear older than seventeen. She was reading Magick Moste Evil. He noticed that first.

No, that was a lie.

The first thing He noticed was the way the corset top clung to her thin frame and the round curve of her breasts.

He noticed her high cheekbones, dark eyes, and the white of her skin in stark contrast with her untamed curly black hair.

He noticed the way she presented herself with an air of better, as if her personal worth greatly exceeded that of everyone else in the pub, as if the others all belonged in such a dank, dusty place, while she happened to find herself there simply because there were no suitable castles nearby over which she could preside.

The last thing He noticed was her restricted reading material.

"Mind if I sit?" He smiled.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not looking for a friend," she said finally, returning to the book.

"Neither am I. I asked for a place to sit, nothing more," He said, still smiling.

In spite of herself, she smiled back. "In that case…" she gestured to the chair beside her.

They started to talk. Everyone once in awhile, He would touch her – stroke her arm, brush her hand, nudge her knee with His own – and she was surprised to find she didn't hate it.

"Magic isn't for Muggles," He'd told her during that first conversation. "And it's not for Mudbloods either."

He'd bought her a drink. Then another.

She was a virgin but not altogether inexperienced, so when He invited her up to the room He was renting above the tavern, she didn't consider saying no. She worshipped Him from that very first conversation and was obsessed with Him forever afterward. In His rented room, in His bed, He was as passionate as He'd been downstairs when talking about the race war to rid the world of Muggleborns and restore Wizards to their rightful place, above all others, but it was a rougher passion. He'd pinned her down by the wrists, bit her neck, drew blood from her lower lip, made her hurt… _there…_ and, to her complete surprise, it felt good. She didn't know pain could feel so good. She knew inflicting it on others entertained her, excited her, but this was new.

When He was satiated and she was struggling to remember how to stand in order to dress herself, she told Him she wanted to join His cause.

"I knew you would," He said. "I knew the moment I saw you that you were going to be one of us."

One of us. She liked that.

She spent her last year at Hogwarts fantasizing about Him. She was certain they'd be married and go on to rule the Wizarding World together. They'd have a child, two perhaps, a boy and a girl, and raise them the way Wizarding families should. Their son would grow up to be His successor. Their daughter would marry a member of a notable old family, one of the Sacred 28, and make them proud.

But that didn't exactly happen. Instead, He encouraged Bellatrix to marry Rodolphus, a pureblood wizard from a noble Slytherin family... a member of the Sacred 28, but not what she wanted for herself.

He had her help him recruit the Lestranges and others to their cause. He trusted her with secrets no one else was privy to.

But He did not love her, nor did He pretend to – not in the way she wanted.

"This is precisely why He doesn't love you," she scolded herself aloud, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You're weak. You've always been weak."

Except that wasn't true. Bellatrix had never been weak. Never in the 46 years of her life leading up to this moment had she ever been weak, not even in Azkaban.

It was the baby. The damn baby was making her weak. Did all babies do this to the women who carried them? She could ask Narcissa. No. She could not ask Narcissa. Narcissa could not know. He would be angry if Narcissa knew. And Narcissa might give it away to others, to those like Snape who could use Legilimency, or to Lucius in bed at night, or to any one of the many Death Eaters who were in and out of Malfoy Manor with increasing frequency. She trusted Narcissa in many ways, but her sister's mind was an open book. So no, she could not ask Narcissa for advice.

But there was someone else she could ask.

Someone she hadn't seen or spoken to in years.

Her other sister.

Andromeda.


	2. Chapter 2: Reunion

**CHAPTER TWO:**

 **Reunion**

Bellatrix couldn't believe how easy it was to break the wards around her sister's house. Surely with her husband and daughter both marked for death, she would have had the Ministry help to make sure…

Oh, that's right. The Ministry was under the Dark Lord's control now. In spite of her predicament, Bellatrix smiled. Then it occurred to her: what if Nympadora or Ted Tonks was inside the house? What would she do? She certainly couldn't let them live. The Dark Lord would be most disappointed in her if she did. But if she killed them, Andromeda would be even less likely to willingly share information with her.

Ah, well. She'd have to take that chance.

Breaking down the last of the apparition wards, she closed her eyes, and a moment later appeared in her younger sister's kitchen.

"Merlin's beard!" cried Andromeda, jumping up and spilling her tea in the process. "It's you!" She drew her wand. Bellatrix already had hers out. They were both at the ready, prepared to kill in order to live if that was necessary.

"I did not come to hurt you," said Bellatrix. "Besides, if I wanted it, you'd be dead already."

"You overestimate your abilities, Bella," said Andromeda. "You always have."

"I do not think this is the best time for you to be starting a game of 'who does it better,' do you?"

"I think it's time to tell me why you're in my home. My husband isn't here, as if you're unaware. He's on the run from Snatchers, as is my son-in-law. My daughter could be killed any day, and with her my unborn grandchild, thanks to your fellow Death Eaters. So as you can probably imagine, you're not welcome here."

"Your…" Bellatrix shook her head. She'd forgotten that her younger sister would soon become a grandmother, news delivered recently to the Dark Lord by none other than Severus Snape, the "faithful servant" whose loyalty Bellatrix never stopped doubting.

A grandmother.

It was difficult to fathom. Surely they weren't that old, not yet.

"Your grandchild?" said Bellatrix. Andromeda sneered.

"Yes. My future grandbaby, whose life is in danger every moment of every day simply because his parents are…"

"Blood traitors?"

"A metamorph and a werewolf."

"No, they're in danger because they're blood traitors. The Dark Lord would be pleased to have more werewolves fighting beside us. We have Fenrir Greyback…"

"Hardly a ringing endorsement for your side…"

"There are others, too. But _your_ werewolf is a blood traitor, as is your daughter, as are you. Do you know what the Dark Lord could do with a metamorph? How useful she could be to us? Is your loyalty to your Muggle-born husband worth the life of your grandchild?"

"Is that why you've broken into my home? To inquire about the safety of my unborn grandchild?" Andromeda sat back in her chair, still keeping her wand trained on Bellatrix. "How thoughtful of you, dear sister. I had no idea you cared. Why didn't you bring Narcissa along? We could've had such a lovely reunion. Look, I made tea."

"Save it."

"Get out."

"Not yet!" Bellatrix twirled her own wand around her forefinger. "I need you… I need information from you, and I don't care if I have to torture you to get it."

"Well, there's the Bellatrix Black I've always known and loved, truly Mother's daughter, eh? Willing to do what it takes to get what you want. Torture away. You know as well as anyone that I can handle myself under at least two of the Unforgivable Curses and I daresay should you attempt the third, if I fail to shield myself from it, you won't be getting much information out of me afterward anyway."

A cat-like smile spread across Bellatrix's face as she circled closer to her prey. "Oh, little sister? You want me to try an Unforgivable on you? Hm? Is that what you're saying? You know I'd love to. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you writhing in pain. The Cruciatus is my strength, which I'd love to share with my favorite blood-traitor blood relation." As she spoke, she made her way closer to Andromeda, who was still seated, until she was hovering over her. "Tell me, have you ever been tortured before, Muggle-lover? Would you like to be?" Bellatrix ran the tip of her wand down Andromeda's arm, her eyes open so wide she almost looked innocent. "Yes? You want to see what it's like?"

"Are you trying to scare me or pick me up in a pub?" asked Andromeda, who was the only person who knew how Bellatrix and Voldemort met. "You know, darling, I've never been one for this casual flirtation you and Narcissa seem to have perfected at an early age. Tell me, do you still give others the impression you're 'more than kin and less than kind' or have you managed to rein it in for the sake of appearance?"

Bellatrix laughed. She slid her wand up the sleeve of her dress hoping Andromeda would do the same, but she didn't. "I don't flirt with our sister."

"Don't you? I've heard rumors…"

"That's sick," said Bellatrix. "We're related."

"Half our family is related. That is to say, half our family married other people in our family to whom they were already related. It's sheer luck that we're not all walking around hunched over with extra noses and no ability to properly chew. That's what'll happen to you blood-obsessed types, you know. You can only intermarry for so many generations before hemophilia poisons your blood worse than mixing with Muggles ever could."

Bellatrix's smile dissipated. "I don't flirt with Narcissa."

"Only her husband?"

"I haven't fucked her husband in almost twenty years."

"I'm sure she's very appreciative of that."

"When I did, it was for a reason."

"Ah, well that makes it alright, eh? That said, would you mind not fucking mine? I can't think of any reason such a coupling would be appropriate."

Bellatrix glared at Andromeda. "I would not lie down with that Muggle filth even if the Dark Lord himself demanded it."

"Of course you would, darling sister. You would lie down with _anyone_ if the Dark Lord demanded it: wizard, witch, mud-blood or Muggle. I know you would. Admit it."

By now, the tea had soaked well into the wooden kitchen table. Andromeda, no longer feeling the need to keep her wand trained on her sister, used it to clean up the mess and repair her broken tea cup. "This mess!"

"Sorry to have interrupted your afternoon," said Bellatrix sarcastically.

Andromeda waved her hand dismissively, checking to be sure it hadn't dripped onto the floor. "Tea?" she asked, summoning a second cup from the counter for Bellatrix. "It seems you intend to stay awhile."

"I suppose." With a sigh, Bellatrix sat across the table from Andromeda. She sipped the tea, added sugar, and sipped it again. "I need information from you," she said finally.

"Sorry, big sister. I'm not going to tell you where they're hiding. For one, I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't…"

"I don't give a damn where they are."

"Then why are you here? What information could I possibly have for you?"

Bellatrix didn't answer. She sipped her tea. Andromeda sipped hers. If anyone had peaked in the window, they would assume all was well – just two sisters enjoying the afternoon together. It would be clear, even to total strangers, that the two were related. Unlike Narcissa, with her pinker cheeks and (no-longer-naturally) blonde hair, Bellatrix and Andromeda had always looked alike at first glance, despite the latter's lighter hair. When they were little, they were sometimes even mistaken for twins, which Andromeda, being younger, loved, and Bellatrix, being almost as obsessed with her own individuality as she later was with Voldemort, hated.

"Do you remember when we were little girls?" asked Andromeda, twirling a strand of long brown hair around her finger. "Before Father died? Mother put us in matching dresses, all three of us, all the time."

"You loved that shit. You'd twirl around and fall over like a giraffe in a tutu and say, "'Wook, Bewwa! I'm just wike you! I wook just wike you!' You loved me, you little idiot, with your silly twirls and your speech impediment."

"I did love you and you loved me and we both loved Narcissa… Though to be honest, I loved her a bit less."

"Well, Narcissa was always so busy being in love with herself I highly doubt she noticed."

Andromeda laughed. If she could set aside the fact that her sister wanted nearly everyone in her immediate family dead, she could almost enjoy chatting with Bellatrix. They hadn't always been enemies. Until Bella's last year at Hogwarts, back when her interest in blood purity ran no deeper than that of any of their other relatives, and before Andromeda fell for Ted and started questioning all she'd been raised to believe, they'd actually been quite close.

"Narcissa tries to mother me on occasion but it doesn't suit her."

"She's not a good mother?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't know a good mother if I'd been born to and raised by one."

"I was under the impression she spoils him," said Andromeda. "Babies him, dotes on him, wouldn't let him attend Durmstrang because it's too far away."

Bellatrix raised both eyebrows in surprise. Andromeda shrugged.

"Even though I have no desire to interact with either of you, I hear things. I know things. For example, I know that you attacked my daughter and killed Sirius in the Department of Mysteries last year. How was that? Did it feel good, sending your own cousin through that veil?"

Bellatrix didn't take the bait, choosing instead to answer the 'good mother' question. "You're right that Narcissa didn't want Draco to go to Durmstrang because it was too far away. She also didn't want him to do a particular task for the Dark Lord because it might be dangerous. She doesn't only spoil him, she babies him. You should've seen what she got Severus Snape into last year in an attempt to protect him. If I had a son…"

"Thank heavens you don't…"

"I would be proud to see the Dark Lord put him to good use." Having caught her sister's interjection, she added " _Bitch_ ," before continuing her thought. "Not Cissy. She begged the Dark Lord to give the task to someone else – actually begged Him! As if she's worthy enough to ask anything of Him. Pathetic. But for all her affection, she still lacks… _something_. There's a decidedly un-maternal element to her. Did you know they had a servant breastfeed him from birth until age two? A poor girl, a squib. She lived with them and did everything from changing his nappies to waking with him in the middle of the night. I called her 'the human house-elf.' It was disgusting."

Andromeda continued twirling her hair, a habit their mother had tried to break her from since toddlerhood, to no avail. "They had nannies when he was in primary school, too. I would see them together once in awhile, the boy being carried around when he was old enough to walk, bought whatever he asked for. Draco, isn't it? He looks like his father."

Bellatrix laughed derisively. "Draco, yes. For all of her affection toward him, apparently she couldn't be bothered to care for him full-time. Last year Lucius said he wanted more children but Narcissa insisted she wasn't willing to go through 'all that' again. I asked her, 'all what? All the trouble of paying a dirty squib to let him suckle off her until he learns to eat solid food?' She said 'you're not a mother, you'll never understand.' She's right, I don't understand. What's the point in bringing home a little brat if you plan to pass him off for someone else to nurse and raise?"

Andromeda nodded, smiling slightly, giving into the catty part of her they'd all inherited from their mother. "Honestly, I'm shocked she even carried him inside her own body. Could she have outsourced that, she surely would have. You know we hadn't spoken in years when she was pregnant, but I did see her around Diagon Alley from time to time and I rather enjoyed knowing how fat she got. Merlin's beard, was she fat! And – this you wouldn't know because you were locked up – it took her a good five years to lose it all. I rather enjoyed that, too."

"Do you always?"

"Do I always what?"

"Get fat?"

"I'll have you know, _I've_ never been fat a day in my life."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I mean pregnant women. Do pregnant women always get fat?"

"I gained exactly seventeen pounds when I was carrying Nymphadora and lost them all before she was six months old. I breastfed her myself. That takes the pounds off."

"But most women, they get fat?"

Andromeda sat back in her chair, studying her sister. "Why do you care?"

Bellatrix averted Andromeda's gaze. "I don't." She sipped her tea.

Andromeda's heavy-lidded eyes widened. "Merlin's beard."

"Stop it," Bellatrix snapped. "I hate that phrase and you use it all the time, you've always used it, even when you were a little girl, even though Mother hated it too."

"Merlin's beard, Merlin's beard!" Andromeda placed one hand dramatically over her chest, wickedly cheered by what she perceived as her sister's misfortune. "That's why you're here, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. You're pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant."

"You _are_ pregnant! You're nearly fifty and you're pregnant."

"I'm hardly forty."

"Who do you think you're fooling? You're closer to fifty than forty." She clapped her hands together delightedly. "Merlin's beard, you even _look_ pregnant. Your skin glows."

"It does not. Narcissa told me just this morning I look pale and sick."

"You're pale and sick because you're pregnant and you came to me for advice."

"Go to hell."

"Then why are you here?" Andromeda laughed, the cruel sort of laugh that made Bellatrix's skin crawl. Andromeda laughed just like Mother. "You're pregnant, Bella. I'm about to be a grandmother and my big sissy's pregnant!" Andromeda laughed harder, so hard she had to wipe away actual tears from her eyes. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. "I've never liked you."

"Shut it, I know you used to, before Ted, before You-Know-Who. I know you liked me, you _loved_ me, and now you've come to me, _me_ , of all people, for advice because you're pregnant and you don't know what to do, or what to expect, and you think I can help you! That I'd be willing to help you! Oh! This _is_ rich. So, who's the lucky man? Certainly not your mess of a husband, his family's inbred so far back I'd be surprised if he can get it up."

"He's not inbred."

"He's one of the Sacred 28, isn't he?"

The Sacred 28 was a name given to the 28 remaining families to be able to call themselves pure-blood as of the 1930s. The Blacks, Lestranges, Weasleys, Prewitts, and Malfoys had all made the list.

"Of course," said Bellatrix, disgusted at the notion he'd be anything but. "I wouldn't have married him if he were mixed, you know that."

"That means he's inbred. Is he the baby's father? I can't believe it. I always assumed your marriage was one of convenience or to enhance your image. Has it ever been consummated?"

Bellatrix took in a sharp breath, her teeth grinding as heat radiated from her hands. She was getting angry and struggling to control it.

"No," said Andromeda, who didn't need occlumency to read her older sister. "No, you've slept with him, but you're not pregnant by him. I'm certain of it. Oh, dear, it's not Lucius, is it? That could make Christmas and Easter rather awkward… Merlin's beard, _is it Lucius_? If so, can I be the one to tell Narcissa? I'd risk death to do it. It would be my pleasure."

"It's not Lucius. I told you, I haven't…

"Fucked him in years," finished Andromeda. "I know, I remember you said it, I just figured you're lying. So if not him, then…?"

"Fine, yes, you win. I'm pregnant, it's not my husband's, I want to know what to expect, and I can't tell anyone about it, alright? Not Rodolphus, not Narcissa… I need to keep it from everyone. Everyone. Including you."

"What are you going to do, pick my brain then obliviate me?" Andromeda laughed again. "You know I wouldn't let you. You'd have to kill me, darling, and honestly, I'm not sure you have it in you. Not considering what's _in you_! They change you, Bella. From the inside out. They make you weak. Emotional. They make you fat. A baby will turn you into a baby. What will your darling Dark Lord think of you now? Fat and emotional and weak? What use will you be to him? What reason would he have to keep you around? Poor dear, he won't even want you anymore. Nobody will. How's it feel, Bellatrix? How's it feel to be vulnerable? Afraid? How's it feel to know you might soon lose everything?" Andromeda was teasing her, taunting her the way Bellatrix had done to Neville in the Department of Mysteries. The irony was not lost on the Bellatrix, who bit her lip until she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood. She could kill Andromeda. She could kill her and walk away and never feel an ounce of remorse.

She could, but she wouldn't.

"Oh, Bella, Bella, Bella. Weak, frightened Bella. Whatever do you want from me?"

"I've cried, Meda."

That halted Andromeda's laughter. Not only had she never known her sister to cry, but it had been over twenty-five years since either of her sisters had used her childhood nickname, and that time, the last time, it was when they sat her down and tried in vain to convince her not to marry Ted Tonks.

 _"_ _He's a Muggle! You cannot damage our family name in this manner! Call off this ridiculous childhood romance and move on. Find a suitable husband. Your attempts to rebel are made only to hurt Mother and while we'd all like to make her pay for certain past actions, this is not the way. End it!" Bellatrix had demanded, certain "Muggle-loving" was a phase._

 _Narcissa had a different approach. "Please, Andromeda. If you marry him, Mother will cut you off forever. You won't be a Black anymore. You won't be our sister. We've been together our whole lives, your blood is our blood, and that blood is pure! Please, for all that it means to be a Black, please, don't marry him! Don't we matter to you at all?"_

 _"_ _I'm marrying him," Andromeda had said. "He's asked and I've said yes."_

 _"_ _You're making a mistake, Meda," Bellatrix had said. "You'll live to regret it."_

 _"_ _It will be no life if I live it without him," said Andromeda. "I love him. He loves me. If you can't love me knowing that I love him, than we have nothing further to say to each other."_

So they didn't. Not for twenty-five years.

Not until today.


	3. Chapter 3: Wasted

**CHAPTER THREE:**

 **Wasted**

They switched from tea to red wine.

"I'm sure a little won't hurt it," said Bellatrix, pouring herself an almost overflowing glass.

"That's enough," said Andromeda, taking back the bottle. "You shouldn't have filled it more than halfway. Are you trying to give that baby brain damage?"

Bellatrix flashed a smile. "Red wine's good for the heart."

"Oh?" said Andromeda. "I wasn't aware that you had one."

"I told you I cried!" Bellatrix scowled, but whether she was more annoyed by her sister's quip or her own recent tears even she wasn't certain. "I've cried several times over the last few weeks, but especially over the last few days. Over stupid things. I get this guilty feeling over…" Neville Longbottom's baby face flashed in her mind, "Over stupid things I've never felt any guilt over. Things I've never needed to feel any guilt over. I didn't even know guilt was… was…"

"You didn't think you had enough of a conscious to feel remorse?"

"I know who and what I am and have no need to feel guilty for that!" She tossed her head back arrogantly. "Why must you be such a bitch?"

" _I'm_ a bitch? A year ago _you_ murdered our cousin and tried to off my only daughter. Why are you here? I mean, I get that you're pregnant, but so what? Why come to me?"

Bellatrix chewed her lip, shifting awkwardly in her chair, before answering.

"I'm not myself, Andromeda. I'm falling apart. I'm weak. I'm… I'm Narcissa. Remember how much she cried as a child?"

"Over damn near everything," said Andromeda. She only had the one clean wine glass (she'd been drinking a bit more than usual since her husband went on the run, not that she wasn't bordering on an alcohol problem before) so she was swigging directly from the bottle. "Yeah, I remember. Whenever Mother raised her voice, even if her anger was directed at one of us, Narcissa cried."

"Whenever Stepfather…"

"Don't," said Andromeda, holding up her hand. "Don't talk about him."

"Well, Narcissa was the only one who'd cry when he was through," said Bellatrix. She downed a long gulp of the wine. Andromeda sipped more from the bottle. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, which Andromeda eventually broke. "She still cries. All the time. Over anything and everything."

"I think he was worse to her than he was to us."

"Because she was weak," said Bellatrix. "That's why I'd take her place sometimes. She couldn't handle what we could. She wouldn't fight back if she were being bullied by a baby. I don't think she ever once used the word 'no.' But she didn't care, not really, not in the long term. Not like us. As long as he'd keep her in those fancy dresses with those lacy gloves and the shiny shoes, so she could be _pretty_ , so everyone could tell her she was _pretty_ , that's all she cared about. He'd dress her up and call her _pretty_ and she'd smile like it was all alright. It's the same with her husband. He's a lech; I loathe him. But far as I know, she's never once confronted him. I think she secretly likes it when he's having his affairs because he buys her things, extravagant things, and tells her how beautiful she is, how lovely, how desirable, all the same things he says to the twenty-year-old girls he's bedding behind her back. He buys her jewelry, overlarge diamonds and gold trinkets, and she loves it. Fancy dresses made her forget as a child and expensive jewelry makes her forgive even now."

"I don't want to talk about this," said Andromeda. "You wanted to know what to expect, okay, I'll tell you. How far along are you? I'll give you what you came for and then you'll leave and we'll both pretend this never happened."

"I need more wine."

"You'll get pissed."

"I need it to loosen my tongue."

"A little more." Andromeda topped off Bellatrix's half-empty glass. "How far along are you?"

"July, I think, is when it happened, or maybe end of June, so… Two or three months? Eight or nine weeks? I haven't been to see anyone."

"How do your breasts feel?"

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"How do they feel?"

"I don't know. I'd have to ask the…" She took a sharp intake of breath, realizing she'd nearly said _The Dark Lord_. "The man I'm with," she finally finished. Andromeda snorted.

"I don't mean how do they feel to other people, you dolt. Are they tender? Does it hurt when you put on your bra?"

"Oh!" Bellatrix cupped her breasts with both hands and gave them a light squeeze. "No more so than usual, I suppose."

"Well, that's frequently the first sign. I've been pregnant four times, you know, and that was the earliest signal with each one."

This was news to Bellatrix. "Four times?"

Andromeda nodded. She took another long sip from the wine bottle, comforted by the familiar taste on her tongue and subtle tingling down her throat. "Metamorphs are exceptionally rare but by some magic I keep conceiving them. We must carry a recessive gene… or Ted does."

"I don't know what that means." Bellatrix sipped her wine too. "Recessive genes, sounds like Muggle babble." She could feel the liquor going to her head. She very rarely drank, as one of the very few things she feared was losing control. She drank the night she met Voldemort in that pub. While she often assured herself she would've gone upstairs with Him even if she'd been drinking nothing but butterbeer, she sometimes wondered if that were true… especially lately. He'd plied her with an awful lot of liquor that night. Did He assume she liked to drink? Or did He assume she'd need to be drunk in order to…? She didn't want to think about it. That was the sort of thought that crept into her mind during her thirteen years in Azkaban.

"Male metamorphs are far more uncommon than female, and females are very rare. Typically, women who become pregnant for metamorphs miscarry. The medi-witch told me she wasn't sure a male metamorph had been carried to term within the last century. Females are less likely to be conceived, but only fifty percent likely to die in utero. I lost three baby boys, all in my second trimester. We named them, but…" Andromeda looked away, her eyes misty. She hadn't spoken to anybody about her miscarriages except Ted, her medi-witch, and once, when she was twelve, her daughter, and she didn't have any intention of getting emotional over it now, especially considering her current company. Finally, she finished, "Nympadora is my miracle baby."

"That's… sad. I'm sorry." Bellatrix shook her head. Who was that apologizing to her sister? She hardly recognized her own voice. Dammit. The baby was making her emotional again. That had to be it. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She rubbed her temples and tried to think.

"My miracle baby and you tried to take her from me."

Bellatrix shook her head again, this time because she was trying to clear it. She wasn't going to be pulled into this, wasn't going to feel guilty about doing what needed to be done. It's not like it was her fault, what happened with Nympadora. The idiot girl made the choice to fight for Dumbledore against her own family. She didn't have to. Bellatrix could have taught her so much, the way she did Draco, but no. The little mixed-blood brat was hell-bent on further populating the Wizarding World with half-breeds and half-beasts. If anything, the fact that Bella had come close to killing Nymphadora was Andromeda's fault. She was, after all, the one who turned her back on her own blood, not Bellatrix.

"Bella?"

"What else can I expect? For the first few months?"

"If you're like Narcissa, you can expect to get fat. You're probably already experiencing morning sickness, though in my experience it is not confined to mornings. Everything made me feel sick. My senses were hyper-alert. Every taste, every smell was magnified, and most gave me the feeling I needed to vomit."

Bellatrix nodded. "That I'm familiar with."

"Ted loved my mood swings." Recognizing Bella's confusion, Andromeda chuckled. "That was sarcasm, genius. Remember sarcasm? You were once the queen of it."

"Bite me."

"There's my girl!"

"I'll Crucio you," said Bella, but she didn't draw her wand (not that she needed it; she could perform that curse in her sleep). "Don't think I won't."

"I'll risk it," said Andromeda. "Here, have a little more wine. Just a bit."

"You're trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me," Bellatrix accused, though she wasn't sure what possible advantage her sister would have once getting her drunk. Unless she planned to kill her.

"Take advantage? That's what Lucius would do. I'm not Lucius. Remember him? Your sister's husband? That man you claim you haven't fucked him in almost twenty years?"

Bellatrix sneered. "You always were a bit of a cunt."

"Tsk, tsk, sister. Language. Tell me, did she ever find out? About your affair?"

"It was hardly an affair. One satisfaction-lacking shag in a dark alleyway."

"Satisfaction-lacking for whom? He couldn't finish?"

Bellatrix didn't particularly enjoy her recollection of that encounter, but she laughed all the same. "No, _he_ finished." She ran her fingers through her thick black hair, debating whether she should tell Andromeda _why_ it had happened. It was an assignment given to her by the Dark Lord himself, who wanted to test the loyalty of his then right-hand man, who, after the incident, took a backseat to newcomers Severus Snape, Barty Crouch, Jr., and even their cousin Regulus Black.

There wasn't anywhere safe for them to go, and besides, spending time looking for a location might've let Lucius rethink what he was going to do. When she offered herself to him, it was 1978, she was 27 years old, they were in the middle of the first Voldemort war, and he'd been married to her baby sister for six years. The Malfoys were in the process of trying to become pregnant but like most of the women on the lower branches of the Black family tree, Narcissa was struggling to conceive. Bellatrix didn't particularly want to do it – not only because of her sense of loyalty to her baby sister, but because she personally found Lucius nauseating – but she was confident that her Master had His reasons. In any case, no one should have known about it. No one should have seen them. What was Andromeda even _doing_ skulking about the seedy underbelly of the Wizarding World, especially so late in the evening?

Lucius was there to see a man about buying forbidden objects, in particular a version of Veritaserum that had been altered to kill the user post-interrogation, and a golden cup with two finely-wrought handles adorned with a few jewels, marked on one side with the image of a badger. Bellatrix's job was to tail him without being seen, easy enough since the Dark Lord had worked with her extensively on a self-concealment charm, then approach him only after he had successfully obtained the potion and the cup.

All had gone according to plan. Lucius stepped into the alleyway to apparate back to Malfoy Manor, where he was beckoned to by his sister-in-law. She offered herself up to him right there at that moment and he accepted without question. He lifted her skirt, pushed her roughly against the stone wall, and forced himself roughly inside before she was ready. While he cupped her breast with one hand, squeezed her thigh with the other, and panted into her shoulder, she stared at a point beyond him and mentally removed herself from the situation, the way she did when she was a child and Stepfather's hands would…. wander. She wouldn't have noticed the tiny pink-haired girl chasing a ball into the alleyway had the klutz not tripped over her own feet and fallen flat on her face when trying to retrieve it. Behind her appeared a thin, dark-haired, heavy-lidded woman who scolded her for running off, picked her up, then looked, and made direct eye-contact with the sister she hadn't seen in nearly a decade. Fuck.

Andromeda smiled wickedly, holding her daughter in a way that prevented her from seeing the scene in the alley, and said only five words: "Tell Narcissa I said hello."

She hurried away, holding tightly to her daughter, who whined about losing her ball. It was the first and only time Bellatrix had ever seen the child. She ordered Lucius to finish up, which he did, apparently not at all bothered by what had transpired. That was when Bellatrix realized Narcissa knew. Not about the two of them, but in general, she knew about his infidelity. She knew and didn't care. Bellatrix cared. She wanted him dead. But the Dark Lord merely tortured him, not terribly harshly, then temporarily cast him from their inner circle.

The following night He entrusted Bellatrix with Helga Hufflepuff's cup.

"Only you are truly faithful to me, Bella," He'd said.

"Forever," she'd assured him.

And He'd taken her to His bed and made love to her and told her she belonged to Him, and for the first time she didn't argue about not belonging to anyone.

"What were you doing there, Andromeda?" asked Bellatrix. "With your child?"

"It was during my fourth pregnancy. I'd learned of a Potions Master capable of dark magic and thought – rather stupidly – that he might be able to give me something to help me hold onto the baby. I had Nymphadora with me because Ted was away for work. He never would have approved. But what were you doing there? With him? I mean, I figured out what you were doing, but if he's as loathsome as you say, why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"No, I'm sure I wouldn't."

Bellatrix downed what was left of her wine. Andromeda added the slightest bit more to the glass before finishing off the bottle herself.

"I hate him too," said Andromeda. "Lucius. He got serious with Narcissa shortly before I ran off to marry Ted, do you remember? They started dating when she was a third year. She was too young for him. When he took her virginity she was practically still a baby. Remember? Remember the first time she brought him home to meet Mother?"

"I've blocked it out."

"1971. You were twenty, I was eighteen, she was sixteen."

"So?"

"He hit on me at Mother's house over summer holiday. Narcissa was upstairs. She was supposed to be getting ready but let's be honest, she was probably just staring at herself in the mirror. Mother was in the dining room, ordering around that old house elf. Malfoy and I were in the parlor. He called me beautiful, kissed my cheek and brushed his fingertips against my hip, but when I got upset he said I was overreacting, he was just being friendly, saying hello. I couldn't escape that life fast enough."

"He'd fuck anything that moves."

"Including you."

"Fuck you."

"I'm not interested, thanks, but I'd be he still is."

Bellatrix laughed, genuinely amused. "You've gotten wittier in your old age, sister. Not to mention brave. I could kill you without even reaching for my wand and yet you're perfectly comfortable making little quips at my expense?"

"I figure if you'd come here to kill me you'd have done it already. You're here for a reason, aren't you?"

The sisters stared at each other for a long, tense moment, during which Andromeda wondered what her life would be like if she'd never met Ted, if she'd be a pathetic Death Eater's wife like Narcissa or a heartless killer like Bellatrix. Bella, on the other hand, was thinking about all the hexes she'd love to practice on her philandering brother-in-law but couldn't, because doing so would most likely anger the Dark Lord. She sighed.

"I'm here because I keep crying, Meda. Over nothing. When will that end?"

"It won't. All through pregnancy, your emotions will be all over the place. I would be laughing one minute then crying the next, I'd get so angry over damn near anything then beg Ted not to hate me for yelling at him. I was certain he'd leave me for being insane. That was the worst when I was carrying Nymphadora. The other three, the boys, they didn't make me quite as crazy. I remember headaches too, terrible ones, and I don't know if this happens to everyone, but I started having strange dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Nightmares, really. Mostly about… about our childhood. About Mother."

"And Stepfather?"

"I told you, I don't want to talk about him. In any case, I'd wake up in the middle of the night coated in sweat; sometimes Ted would wake me up because I was thrashing or sobbing. The mood swings weren't pleasant, but those nightmares were the worst. I don't know if they happen to other women though, because I didn't have anyone to ask about it. It's not as if Mother would have invited me in for a heart-to-heart. But be prepared, in case it's hereditary."

Bellatrix gulped down the last of her glass of wine. Nightmares. She couldn't stand to have nightmares, especially not about _that_. Merlin's beard, would that ever make her look weak, especially in front of Rodolphus. Dammit, she'd just let the words 'Merlin's beard' creep into her inner monologue. She was losing it already. Eager to change the subject, she asked, "When do I gain weight?"

"Any minute now. Your clothes will start to feel tight but it won't show, not at first. Your breasts will get bigger too. Ted liked that, quite honestly, and I can't say I minded," she chuckled, momentarily enjoying the memory. "I didn't show in my midsection with Nymphadora until halfway through my sixth month, but I believe that's very late. The medi-witch was worried, since at that point I'd already lost two in the fifth month and I showed with both of them. The key to not looking like Cissy is to eat fruits, vegetables, and other healthy things instead of the cakes and pies you'll crave." Andromeda felt a pang. She missed her husband. She missed her daughter. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd called their baby sister Cissy. It hurt.

It was entirely surreal, sitting at her kitchen table, knowing her husband was on the run from Snatchers and Death Eaters, knowing Voldemort had infiltrated the Ministry, wondering whether her daughter, unborn grandbaby, and son-in-law would be killed any day, while sharing an entire bottle of red wine with the pregnant older sister she hadn't seen in over eighteen years or conversed with in twenty-five, a woman who was a Death Eater in Voldemort's inner circle, a woman who boasted about her loyalty to Him even after His fall, even though it meant being sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. Andromeda took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and figured she might as well get on with it.

"In your last trimester, you won't be much good at anything. You'll feel as if your brain is broken. You'll forget things, stupid things. Oh, and you might feel in increased need for… physical connection, which will be semi-negated by how unattractive you'll feel. The baby grows fast during those last three months. You'll be able to feel it inside you, moving and kicking. If I remember correctly, around the middle of the eighth month the baby will flip so its head is facing downward, preparing for birth. You'll be exhausted all the time. You'll experience cramps and pain."

"This sounds bloody awful," said Bellatrix weakly. "All that trouble for a baby. I don't even like babies. What in the hell have I gotten myself into?"

"No one says you have to have it," said Andromeda. "There are ways."

"I'm aware." About this, she offered no details. "Terminating it is not an option."

"In that case, be aware that you'll also have heartburn, varicose veins, false contractions, back pain, and stretch marks. You'll be clumsier that usual, your breasts might leak, the crazy dreams – or in my case, vivid nightmares – will get worse, and you'll probably pee when you don't intend to. Be sure to avoid laughing, crying, or coughing. Now let's discuss the birth!" Andromeda was starting to enjoy this. With every symptom she listed, her older sister looked a little more frightened. It was a nice change. "For starters, giving birth makes the Cruciatus curse feel like a pleasant massage. In other words, it fucking hurts."

Wine and tea swirled in Bella's stomach as all that she just heard swirled around in her brain. "Stop. I think I'm going to be sick. Right now."

"This way." Andromeda stood to lead her sister to the bathroom. She was surprised when Bellatrix stumbled. "Merlin's beard, you're a lightweight."

"I'm dying," said Bellatrix, her voice shaking. She hiccoughed. Andromeda chuckled. She helped Bellatrix down the hall into the loo.

"If you're going to vomit, try not to get any of it on my damn floor."

And just like Narcissa had that morning, Andromeda held Bellatrix's hair and rubbed her back while she threw up and dry-heaved, because that's what sisters do.

When Bellatrix was done she wiped her watery eyes with tissue, struggling to keep composed. Her abdomen was sore. Getting sick so frequently was its own abs workout. She whimpered.

"Oh, stop it. You'll live," said Andromeda dismissively. "Women have been getting pregnant and giving birth since the dawn of time. You're no different."

Bellatrix reclined until her back was flush against her sister's chest. They were both seated cross-legged on the cold tile floor. Andromeda propped herself up against the tub, keeping a firm arm around her sister's waist to keep her from slumping over.

"But I'm alone," whined Bellatrix, her voice sounding smaller than Andromeda had ever heard it. "You're all I have, Andromeda."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Surely the baby's father can help you with it."

"No," whispered Bellatrix. Again she wiped her eyes, this time with her sleeve. She held her head in her hands in a futile attempt to stop the room from spinning. Even more softly, she added, "It's His. The baby, Meda. It's His."

"Whose?" asked Andromeda, smoothing her sister's hair, fully expecting to hear the words "Lucius Malfoy" come out of Bellatrix's mouth. "Whose is it, Bella?"

" _His_ ," Bellatrix said again, more vehemently this time. "The Dark Lord's."


	4. Chapter 4: Memory

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

 **Memory**

Now Andromeda felt sick.

It wasn't the wine. She could drink an entire bottle by herself and not lose her ability to function. She could drink more than one, actually. She had been a high-functioning alcoholic for a very long time, though the words "high-functioning" didn't seem as accurate since her husband went into hiding.

No, she was a different kind of sick.

Her estranged sister, her sadistic, estranged sister, was pregnant.

Pregnant by Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

And only Andromeda Tonks knew about it.

Shortly after Bellatrix's revelation, she passed out. Andromeda cleaned her up, levitated her to the couch in the living room, covered her with a blanket, and placed a glass of water and a bottle of hangover tonic beside her on the table.

Then she began to panic.

In her home was one of the most wanted dark witches ever to exist. The right hand woman of the darkest wizard since Grindelwald, possibly the darkest ever, depending upon who you asked. Her sister wasn't only his right hand witch, she was his _mistress_ , the mistress of that _monster_. The thought made Andromeda's skin crawl.

He-Who-Must-No-Be-Named's pregnant mistress was passed out drunk on blood-traitor Andromeda's couch.

She should contact Nympadora. She had the means. She could get a message to her. But what good would it do? As an Auror, Tonks would have the power to arrest her aunt, but with Death Eaters in control of the Ministry, what would be the point?

Besides, didn't she have to uphold some semblance of loyalty toward her sister? Estranged or not, on different sides or the same, did it matter? They were sisters. They'd been through so much…

No. Bellatrix and Narcissa had made it quite clear when Andromeda chose to marry Ted: they were not sisters anymore. Furthermore, Bellatrix had made it clear when she killed their cousin and tried to kill Andromeda's own daughter that she only cared about blood in terms of purity, not in terms of commonality.

Yet, here was Bellatrix, having come to her, of all people, after all these years. Why?

Andromeda settled into an armchair to watch Bellatrix sleep. She used to watch her sleep when they were children too. She never understood how Bellatrix could sleep. After he'd leave their room… their stepfather… after he'd leave their room to return to their mother's bed, Narcissa would cry. Bellatrix hated it when Narcissa would cry. She used to slap her and call her a baby and threaten to hurt her worse if she didn't shut up. Bellatrix couldn't stand the sound of crying. But Narcissa would cling to her and beg her not to go and Bella would inevitably end up holding Narcissa until she fell asleep, then tucking her in and kissing her forehead before crawling into her own bed.

Bella hated it when she'd realize Andromeda was watching this scene. She would rather people – even her own sisters – see her behaving cruelly, bullying other students at Hogwarts, torturing small animals simply to test out new dark curses she was developing, acting superior even toward her professors and those to whom she was supposed to show respect, than to see her in a moment of tenderness or being protective toward her youngest sister.

As they got older, those moments of tenderness and protectiveness faded away. Andromeda learned to stop expecting them, but as the baby, Narcissa never seemed to. Bella would tell Cissy to get over it, to stop her carrying on like a baby, that she deserved it for being the way she was – spoiled, self-absorbed, a little bitch.

What always confused Andromeda the most, though, wasn't the moments of cruelty or the moments of sweetness but the way Bellatrix could crawl back into bed after he left, close her eyes, and fall asleep. Her breathing would slow to deep and even within minutes, she'd even snore sometimes, while Andromeda lay awake for hours, terrified of what might happen if she shut her eyes, tormented by twisted mental images when she tried.

The nightmares didn't start when Andromeda got pregnant, they started when she was a child. They merely returned when she got pregnant.

So perhaps that wouldn't happen to Bellatrix at all. Perhaps she'd go right on sleeping peacefully as she always had. She looked to be sleeping peacefully now.

She wasn't, though. Not really. Inside her mind, Bellatrix was trapped in a dream, a conflation of overlapping memories, in which a man was holding her down, touching her, kissing her. One moment it was the Dark Lord and she felt content, but in the next, it was Stepfather, and then the image swirled, and she was being felt up by Lucius in the parlor the way Andromeda described.

Two days after Lord Voldemort tortured Lucius for fucking Bellatrix in that alley despite His express order to His Death Eaters that she was off-limits (He claimed He did this in order to test a few loyalties) Lucius cornered Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor after a meeting. The Dark Lord had apparated out only seconds before. Bellatrix was on her way to the kitchen to say goodbye to Narcissa when he grabbed her arm in the hall. Most of the others in the inner circle had dispersed, including her husband and his brother. He pinned her roughly against the wall, her arm twisted painfully behind her.

"I want you."

"Get off me."

"It was too quick the other night. I didn't even get to taste you."

"He'll torture you again."

"It's worth it."

"Andromeda knows. What if she tells Narcissa?"

"Who would believe Andromeda?" He pressed closer so their bodies were flush against each other, his long blond hair hanging in her face. "I can't stop thinking about you." His lips traveled to her neck. "I need you. I need to be inside you."

"You're being ridiculous," she said haughtily, attempting to push him away. If only she could reach her wand. Voldemort was working with her on various spells with wandless magic, but she didn't know any that would be subtle enough to get him away from her without possibly causing him irreparable harm, which, while personally satisfying, would not be prudent as it would surely mean others would find out about this.

"I'll have you again," he murmured against her collarbone.

"You're married to my sister."

"She won't mind. She likes for me to be happy. Perhaps I could even take you at the same time."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "She and I? At the same time? She's my _sister_."

"I know." He grinded against her. She could feel the length of him rubbing uncomfortably against her lower abdomen. "You wouldn't have to do much together…"

"Get off of me."

"Or anything together…"

She struggled against his hold. "Sod off."

"Is there someone else?" Now he sounded hurt, which was absurd.

"Yes," she said, "My darling husband."

Lucius laughed. His lips returned to her neck. "Rodolphus?" he whispered an inch from her ear. "He's hardly 'someone else.' I love my wife, Bella, but I desire you."

"Don't call me Bella."

"I'm going to have you again. I'll have you together if you're willing. If you're not, alone is fine."

Again she tried unsuccessfully to push him away. "I'm not."

"Alone it is."

"I'm not willing to be with you."

"That's fine. I don't need your permission, only your body."

She kneed him, aiming for his groin, but missed. He grinded flush against her, laughing.

"You're no match for me."

Fury radiated from Bellatrix. "You overestimate your abilities, Malfoy." The floor went hot beneath their feet. She knew he could feel it. She was damn close to losing control. Her wand hand, still pinned behind her back, twitched. She would give him a final chance to release her before putting him at the receiving end of at least one Unforgivable.

"When the Dark Lord learns of this…"

"Learns of what?" echoed an icy voice down the dark corridor. "Learns that Lucius Malfoy is again disobeying one a direct order?"

Lucius gulped, backing away from Bellatrix, his hands up, palms out, as if in surrender. She rubbed her sore forearm, glaring at Lucius, terrified her Master would think she had somehow welcomed this, afraid He'd punish her, torture her, or worse – be disappointed in her.

"My Lord!" Lucius was whiter than usual. "I… you see… there's been a… misunderstanding…"

"Bellatrix told me that some of my Death Eaters had been harassing her, which is why I gave the order to stay away. You seem to think this does not include you, is that right?"

"No! I… In… in the alleyway… the other day… She set me up!"

"Now I find you accosting her after the conclusion of our meeting?"

Bellatrix stood up straighter, even puffed her chest out a bit. The Dark Lord wasn't angry at her. He knew where her loyalties lay.

"I will deal with you tomorrow, Lucius. You can expect me." Voldemort held out his hand to Bella. She took it. "For now, I have an assignment for you. Come."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

They disapparated.

An hour later, in His bed, satiated, He asked her how Lucius' advances had started. She told him everything.

"He wants to see you with your sister?" Voldemort's face broke into a wicked smile. "I would not mind seeing your sister. She is… lovely."

Bella's face flushed. "You desire my sister, my Lord?"

He laughed, an icy laugh. "Look at you. You're jealous."

"I'm not."

"You're lying. You dare lie to your Master?"

Her breath hitched in her throat and she winced, expecting punishment, but to her surprise He pulled her closer, so her head was resting on His chest and His hand was resting on her lower back. Her shoulders relaxed. He was amused, not angry. "She is beautiful. That blonde hair, those blue eyes, the curve of her hip… Yes, I could enjoy her. With or without you present."

Bellatrix bit her lip. His long finger traveled up her spin, making her shiver. She couldn't stand to think about it, the Dark Lord with Narcissa. Nothing could be worse. His fingers traveled back up, coming to rest on the back of her neck under her hair. She struggled to breathe.

"Bella, would you be hurt if I wanted your sister?"

He was teasing her, surely. He couldn't possibly be serious. Still, she couldn't bring herself to answer.

"I don't mind the thought of you with another woman," He said after a pause that was far too long. "But not Narcissa. I doubt she's any good in bed. If she were, her husband would not spend half his days chasing other women."

Now Bellatrix felt truly conflicted. On the one hand, she was relieved that the Dark Lord did not, in fact, desire Narcissa, but on the other, she felt the fierce urge to defend her, to protect her, like she did when they were children. "With all due respect, my Lord, I don't think my sister is the problem. Some men… some men just can't control their desire to force themselves on any woman they can. Those men are weak."

"You're thinking of him," said Voldemort. He kissed her forehead. "But I saved you, didn't I? I put a stop to that the moment I knew."

"You did." She kissed his chest and snuggled closer, prompting him to tighten his arm around her. "Narcissa should be grateful too. Once Andromeda were out on our own, she'd be the only one there…"

"You are the most loyal to me, Bellatrix Black," said Voldemort, rolling them over so He was on top of her. Her heart fluttered. She loved when He called her by her full name (minus her marriage-given addition). He parted her legs with his knee. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, eager to give herself to Him. Though she knew He didn't – or couldn't – return her love, it was enough that He wanted her. It had to be. It was the best she would get.

"I could bring you a woman," He murmured. "A Muggle. We could find one together. I wouldn't touch her myself – you wouldn't like that, nor would I – but I could watch as you do to her what my Death Eaters have done to so many."

"You wish to watch me rape a woman?" asked Bellatrix. She could feel His hardness rubbing against her thigh. Clearly this notion excited him.

"Rape is such a harsh word, Bella. I want to watch you… experiment… with her. I'll bind her wrists to make it easier for you. You can start by kissing her. Move down to her breasts. Take one in your mouth…" As he spoke, he moved south, planting his lips along her neck and upper chest. He flicked his tongue over her nipple and she gasped.

"Keep going," He said, sliding his hand between her legs. "Do to her what you'd like me to do to you. You would do that for me, wouldn't you Bella?" His mouth closed over her nipple as he began to suck. His fingers moved faster between her legs. Again she gasped, then cried out:

"Anything, my Lord, anything! I would do anything for you."

"You would kiss her for me?" He asked, repositioning so the tip of Him was against her entrance.

"Yes, my Lord."

His teeth nipped at her neck. She felt as though her veins were filled with lava. Her skin tingled and burned.

"You would fuck her for me?"

"Yes, my Lord, yes." She struggled to get closer. She desperately wanted Him inside her, ut He made her wait – the one torture she could not abide. He squeezed her thigh.

"You would kill her for me?"

"Yes, my Lord, I would. I would kill _anyone_ for you."

He grinned, kissed her soundly on the mouth, then pushed into her.

"Good, Bella. That's precisely what I wanted to hear."

It was only two weeks later they raided a Muggle party, tortured and stole from those in attendance, and kidnapped one beautiful young girl, perhaps 20 years of age, to bring back to His hideaway. He tested Bellatrix on all three counts and she willingly obliged.

It was her first human kill.

Certainly not her last.

In her unconscious mind, the memory of being in bed with her Master faded, replaced again by one from childhood. She was at home on Christmast break. She hadn't wanted to be. She'd begged Mother to let her remain at Hogwarts over the holiday. It was her first year and to say she loved it would be a gross understatement. She shared a dormitory with four other girls, three of whom she had no use for. Sure, they were Slytherins, but she suspected they were sorted solely on the basis of their blood, whereas she was developing the additional quality of bloodlust.

One of the girls, Zillah Rosier, was a first cousin of the Black sisters, the daughter of their mother's brother. They'd known each other growing up, though not well. Zillah was staying over Christmas break. They would've been the only two girls in their year.

But Mother said no.

"Your sisters want to see you," she written. "Stepfather and I do, too."

"I'll bet he does," said Bellatrix, crumpling up the letter. Now it was her first night home, well after midnight, when she heard the door to their bedroom creak open.

"No," she whispered to the darkness. "Not tonight."

"I've missed you," he whispered, careful not to wake the younger girls. "Did you miss me?"

Six years later, nearly Christmastime, during the last Hogsmeade trip of the term, Bellatrix had again met up with the man who would soon out himself to the Wizarding World as the Dark Lord. She told him she didn't want to return home for the holiday and she told him why. He was furious. He ranted about it, promised to end it, but though she felt protected for the first time since Mother married him a decade earlier, it appeared His issue wasn't in her abuse, but in that fact that she was His, she belonged to Him, and He did not like to share.

Still, He promised she, being of age, could spend the holiday with him. Three days later, as she packed her trunk after her last end-of-term exam, she received a letter from Mother.

Stepfather was dead. It appeared he'd been robbed and stabbed by a mysterious Muggle while making his way to the pub that opened into Diagon Alley with Andromeda, who'd been planning to do her holiday shopping there. The only witness, Andromeda was unable to give any identifying details about the Muggle robber except that He told Stepfather just prior to the stabbing, "This is the fate deserved by your kind." The crime was deemed an act of anti-Wizard violence that even got mentioned in the Daily Prophet.

Her mother was heartbroken.

"Why don't you stay at Hogwarts?" she'd written. "It won't be much like Christmas here. No need to come home."

Bellatrix wouldn't come home, but she wouldn't remain at Hogwarts either. Apologies to Zillah Rosier.

Her memories swirled again, this time to the first time. She was seven. He'd been married to Mother for four months. Father had been dead for only six.

On the couch in Andromeda's home, she tossed and turned, lost in the pain of that first time, the night Mother was sick and wanted to go to bed early. The night he offered to tuck the girls in.

Andromeda sipped tea as she watched her sister squirm restlessly, but still out cold. Should she try to wake her? Should she summon Nymphadora? Her wand hand twitched. It would only take two words. Two words to end the most immediate threat to her family. Two words she'd never uttered, never thought she would.

Only two words.

Could she do it?

* * *

A/N: After this chapter, there is only one more, but this is the first of three fics that go together. The next two (LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD and DYING FOR THE DARK LORD) take place in December, 1997 and April/May, 1998 with an as-yet-unnamed August epilogue. Not sure whether I should combine them here as if they're one story or separate them because they can also stand alone. Any opinions? Each is about the same length as this one, aproximately 15,000 words. Anyway, thanks for reading thus far! Hope you stay for the conclusion. 3 AL


	5. Chapter 5: Goodbye

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

 **Goodbye**

After their falling out, Andromeda missed her sisters.

She had never quite bought into the notion of blood purity as intensely their Mother, Father, Stepfather, and other relatives had, the way Bellatrix and Narcissa had, but as a child she supposed she believed in the importance of it.

Narcissa seemed generally unconcerned by matters of Muggle mixing. She was too self-absorbed to give much thought to _why_ they looked down on Mudbloods and never considered the possibility of challenging the status quo, primarily because it might sully her image.

Bellatrix, meanwhile, was completely caught up in being a member of one of the Sacred 28, a group of Wizarding families who, as of the 1930s, still had pure bloodlines. It made her feel special, like she was better than others, as if belonging to one of the remaining pure families made her Wizarding royalty.

As they got older, being included in the Sacred 28 made Andromeda feel stupid. How could these witches and wizards not see the dangers of cousins marrying cousins for generation after generation? If you went back far enough, all old Wizarding families were related. The Blacks were related to the Prewitts. Molly Weasley's maiden name was Prewitt, which meant that she and husband Arthur Weasley were probably distant cousins. The Malfoys were also related to the Blacks somewhere too, through the Rosiers, and they were all related to the Crabbes too. And on and on and on as illustrated via the tapestry permanently stuck in Aunt Walburga's home. Aunt Walburga was, of course, the older sister of Cygnus Black, father of the three sisters.

Quite frankly, it disgusted Andromeda, all of that intermarriage, so when she fell for Ted Tonks and discovered he was a Muggle-born wizard she was almost relieved.

They technically met in her first year, when he was a third year, but only she remembered it. He bumped into her in the hall, apologized, asked if she was okay, then, when she didn't answer, he apologized again and kept going as if the world hadn't come crashing down around their feet. She stared after him, mouth open, gobsmacked by her first love-at-first-sight crush. They were in different years and different houses (her: Slytherin, him: Hufflepuff) so they had no real reason to interact again for several years, until a chance meeting at Hogsmeade. She was a fifth year; he was in seventh. Again, they walked into each other. This time he didn't hurry away. He helped her up, smiled, and asked her name.

This time, she managed to remember how to form words with her mouth and therefore make conversation.

They spent that entire afternoon together. First they hit up Honeydukes, where he bought her a chocolate frog ("Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Andromeda when she saw her chocolate frog card. It was Merlin. Beard and all. "I haven't got any of him!"). Afterward they went to the Three Broomsticks to warm up over butterbeer. They looked like a rather unlikely pair, which earned them stares from many of their fellow students, especially when Ted, noticing the way they were watching, took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. That was it – she swooned. Her love-at-first-sight crush quickly grew into actual love, though she spent most of the next three years hiding it from her family and the other members of Slytherin house. She was only fifteen the year she fell for the man she knew she would eventually marry, and though it hadn't been easy – especially now, with him on the run and her drinking for two, times two, just about every night – she never regretted marrying him, not for a second. That was in 1968, nearly thirty years ago, and she would marry him all over again if she could.

1968 was also the year Bellatrix began seeing Him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

On their first night back at Hogwarts, Bella made her way into Andromeda's room after lights out. She slipped into her bed, shook her awake, and asked if she could keep a secret.

"I've been dying to tell somebody since it happened last week but it wasn't safe to talk at home. Not with Mother and that man around."

That's what Bella had started calling Stepfather. "That man." Their mother hated it.

"What happened?" Andromeda was excited. Her older sister rarely shared secrets, preferring to keep her feelings to herself, presumably in an attempt to appear that she didn't have any.

"I met a man. Not a boy, Meda. A man. A grown man. He's handsome. Brilliant. I met him down that pub Mother can't stand down in Knockturn Alley, the night I was supposed to be with Zillah."

Bella slept over at cousin Zillah's place every year since second year, always a few days before the new school term started, during which time she'd pick up all of the Black sisters' books, robes, and other Hogwarts necessities. It was a privilege of being the eldest.

"We were drinking and talking. He thinks I have potential, Meda. He thinks I can really be someone. He says he knows I'm special. Different. Not like other girls. Or other women. Better."

Andromeda nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of foreboding creeping into the pit of her gut.

"He was explaining about blood purity, about how it's simple _fact_ that some witches and wizards are better than others. Magic belongs to us, Meda. The only reason Mudbloods exist at all is because witches and wizards were stupid enough to breed with them in the past. When a random Muggle-born is named a wizard or witch, it's because that Muggle-born has stolen it from us. The only decent way to have magic is to be born with it, to be deserving, to be pure. To be dirty, mixed, like the Mudbloods, it happens, but in a way really they've stolen it too. Their non-magic parents mated with one of us to steal what we have, what makes us special. We've spent centuries denying what we have and what we are because of Muggle persecution and now, look at them, happy and eager to take what's ours. He says it doesn't need to be that way, Meda. He says we can take back what's rightfully ours, take back our rightful place, to stop hiding. Wouldn't that be beautiful?"

"I… I guess?"

"You guess! Andromeda, you had to hear Him, you had to be there. He was everything. I was captivated by His brilliance and He was captivated by me."

"Why?"

"Why?" Bella looked hurt. "Why? Because I'm brilliant too. I think the way He does. I understand him. We had a connection. I felt it. So when He asked me to spend the night…"

"He asked you to spend the night?!"

"Shhh!" Bellatrix pinched Andromeda hard on the upper arm. "Yes, He, well, I mean, He didn't put it quite like that, and I didn't spend the whole night…"

"What did you do?"

"Everything."

Andromeda tried to raise one eyebrow the way her sister always did. "Everything?"

"Everything, and so much more than everything. He wants to see me again. I'm going to meet Him during our first Hogsmeade trip, He promised to come find me. The way He made me feel… someday, you'll meet someone who gives you that same feeling, that feeling like an entire potions lab is exploding in your lower abdomen and burning its way up into your chest and causing tingling through your limbs and you won't be able to breathe or think straight and that man will kiss you and touch you and you'll never want him to stop."

Despite the couple of crushes she'd had on boys she'd never spoken to, including Ted Tonks, Andromeda could never imagine a situation in which a man would touch her and she wouldn't want him to stop. She was surprised Bellatrix could.

"You didn't tell him to stop?" she whispered. She was torn between the feeling she should be happy for her sister, since her sister was clearly so happy, and feeling afraid, because the way Bellatrix's manic eyes sparkled in the moonlight made her look a hungry wolf about to devour a bunny… and Andromeda didn't want to be the bunny. She tried to shift over so they weren't so close. Bellatrix reacted by slipping her arm around Andromeda's waist. Andromeda felt trapped. Bellatrix didn't seem to notice.

"I told Him I wanted it. I wanted Him. It hurt; I won't lie and pretend it didn't hurt. I even have bruises, I'd show you but if I light my wand your idiot roommates will wake up. I have bruises on my ribcage and along my thighs. He even bit me, I have bite marks. He drew blood! He pulled my hair, I never thought I'd want someone to pull my hair, I don't think I'll ever pull Cissy's again no matter how obnoxious she gets because I can't feel the same way about hair-pulling now that I know what I do. He pinned me down, once by my throat. I actually got scared, I saw stars because I couldn't breathe, but then He released me and kissed my neck and fucked me harder. It was thrilling. Look!"

Bellatrix pulled down the neck of her nightgown to reveal a scabbed-over cut surrounded by purple and green swollen flesh on her left breast. "This is a bite mark."

Andromeda shook her head. Bellatrix had always had an interest in pain, though she clearly preferred giving it to getting, but this was bizarre. He fucked her harder? He left bruises and bite marks? And she let him? She _liked_ it? That didn't sound like her sister, the girl who considered herself too good for boys, who wouldn't even let them kiss her goodnight, never mind touch her, the girl who considered the occasional physical contact with members of the opposite sex a bargaining chip, not a source of pleasure.

"There are more but this is the best one. Isn't it beautiful?"

It wasn't beautiful to Andromeda, not at all. Bellatrix's laugh cut through the silence of the night. Beyond the curtains in another of the four-poster beds, one of Andromeda's roommates squirmed and coughed. Bellatrix lowered her voice.

"Don't look so worried, little sister. I wanted Him to! You'll understand when you're older. He's older. I'm not sure how old, thirty-five, maybe forty? He wants to see me again, that's what's important. I know it's only been a few days since we met and I know I've only seen Him once but Andromeda, I think He loves me. I know I love Him. I never knew I could feel this way."

Andromeda didn't think she could ever feel that way either.

It would be months before Ted Tonks kissed her. Though when he did, he gave her butterflies. When he kissed her, she didn't want him to stop… but he did. She made sure that he did. And even after they were married (they waited until they were married) he never bit her hard enough to draw blood. Never left bruises on her skin or pulled her hair or held her down.

No thanks.

On the couch, Bellatrix stirred. She was coming around. When she opened her eyes and saw Andromeda, she gasped. She sat up and went for her wand, which was no longer in her sleeve.

"What did you do with it?" she asked accusingly.

"It's there, on the table," said Andromeda off-handedly, as if her sister slept on her couch all the time. "Between the water and the hangover tonic. Feel free to drink either, neither, or both. Apparently, you are not as adept at the over-consumption of alcohol as I am."

"Did you do anything to me when I was asleep?" Bellatrix asked accusingly.

"Yes."

"You dared to…" She tried to stand but the room wasn't staying as still as it should have been. She wobbled on weak knees. Andromeda stifled a snicker.

"What do you think I did? Clearly you're not dead."

" _Clearly_. But you could have…"

Andromeda cut her off. "Merlin's beard, Bella. I moved you out here from my bathroom floor, cleaned the vomit off your chin and the front of your dress, found your wand, which had rolled under my couch, mixed up the hangover tonic, poured the water, then watched you sleep to be sure you didn't roll over and suffocate yourself. You're welcome."

For several seconds, Bellatrix glared at her. Then she exhaled slowly. "Thank you," she said, yet another phrase that sounded foreign on her tongue. "I have gotten all I came for. I will be going now. I would appreciate if no one were to find out about… this."

"When you say 'this,' do you mean our visit, our conversation, your pregnancy, or the identity of the father of your unborn baby?"

Bellatrix blanched. "I… who… what did I tell you?"

"You told me," said Andromeda simply. "I won't tell anyone. It's your secret. We all have them. You've never revealed any of mine so I see no need to reveal any of yours."

"I didn't tell Mother when I first learned about you and the Muggle-born."

"I didn't tell Narcissa you fucked her husband."

"I didn't tell Stepfather you put that poison in his bourbon."

"I didn't tell the Aurors it was your lover who eventually killed him."

Bellatrix avoided eye contact. "I don't call him my lover." This time she was successful in her attempt to stand. Andromeda rose from her chair as well. They faced off, neither confident they could trust the other.

"You're having his baby. What do you call him?"

"I… I don't know. It doesn't matter. Stepfather deserved to die."

"I concur. That's why I didn't tell."

Bellatrix picked up her wand, downed the tonic, and chased it with half the glass of water. She walked toward the door. It wouldn't be polite (or prudent) to apparate to Malfoy Manor from inside Andromeda's house.

"You knew?" she asked, turning back, her fingers barely touching the door handle. "You were the only witness, I know, but I had no idea you suspected it was Him. The Daily Prophet said it was a robbery. They called it Muggle-on-Wizard violence."

"I made that up," said Andromeda simply, shrugging. "He introduced himself as your savior, sent to avenge you for all you'd suffered at his hands. He made Stepfather beg for his life, kneeling in an alley, disarmed of his wand. Stepfather turned to me for help, but…" she paused and for a moment Bellatrix thought she wouldn't continue. "But I said there wasn't anything I could do. You and Narcissa were still at Hogwarts, but I'd been home for two weeks, remember?"

She remembered. That was the winter Andromeda had gotten sick and nearly died. She'd been sent home early to recover, Mother's orders, even though Dumbledore was adamant that he thought she'd be better off admitted to St. Mungos or staying in the hospital wing at school.

"I was tired, Bellatrix. I couldn't… I couldn't do it anymore. I knew what he was going to do. Your… your Dark Lord was going to use the Killing Curse, but I'd just bought the knife. I handed it to him. I said, 'Perhaps Stepfather was robbed by a Muggle.' I figured there would be less investigation that way."

"Andromeda…" a slow smile spread across Bellatrix's face. "You _are_ a Slytherin."

"He deserved to die, like you said. Hey, Bella…?"

Bellatrix pulled her fingers back from the door to place her hand on her hip, still grinning. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt more connected to her sister. The Dark Lord had never described what he'd done to Stepfather. All he'd told her at the time was, "Now, you're truly mine." She was too happy at the time to question the story as it appeared in the Daily Prophet. "Yes, Meda?"

"Do you intend to kill my daughter?"

Bellatrix's smile disappeared, replaced by a look of uncertainty. She closed her heavy-lidded eyes and breathed slowly. Andromeda wondered if she was mentally counting to ten, the way they used to as kids.

"Bella?" Andromeda stepped closer, demanding an answer. Bellatrix nodded, seeing no reason to lie, not now, not considering she'd already gotten what she came for.

"If it comes down to her dying or me, it won't be me."

Now it was the younger Black sister's turn to close her eyes, which brimmed with tears. Her voice cracked as she asked, "You'd take pleasure in it though, wouldn't you? Killing my only daughter? The mother of my grandchild? My miracle baby?"

"Andromeda, let's not do this. You know I…"

"This is goodbye, then," Andromeda cut her off. "We'll never do this again."

"If ever you decide to join our cause, Meda, there's room for you."

"I won't."

Bellatrix sighed. "Then yes, this is goodbye."

"Hope you don't die in childbirth," said Andromeda.

"I've been through worse. Besides, if you and Narcissa can do it, I can do it. I'll do it better." Wand at the ready, Bellatrix stepped closer to her sister, so close they were almost touching. "I'm going to hug you. Only for a moment. Only because this damn baby has me so emotional."

"I'm going to let you," said Andromeda, also holding her wand out just in case. "Only because it's forever this time."

Bellatrix wrapped her arms around Andromeda, who paused only briefly before hugging her back. They stood that way for longer than either of them would have expected, neither one fully wanting to let go, despite all that had transpired between them.

"You need better charms and wards around your house, Mrs. Tonks. I got in far too easily. If I can do it, the Dark Lord can do it. Or worse, our brother-in-law."

"I'll work on it. Next time you know for sure he's screwing around on Narcissa, remind her she deserves better."

"I'll do that."

The two women who had, as children, looked so much alike they could pass for twins, stood and stared at each other, nothing left to say.

"You always were a bit of a cunt anyway." Smiling, Bellatrix swept dramatically out the front door. Andromeda watched through the window as she apparated.

"Goodbye," she whispered. She headed toward the kitchen. There was a second bottle of wine hidden up in the cupboard and she needed a drink.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix was feeling better than she had in weeks. She knew what to expect, at least for the next few months. Mood swings. Food cravings. Possible nightmares. The need for a bigger bra. And a name. What kind of name could she give this baby, a baby whose parentage no one could ever know?

She wished she'd asked her sister that, not that Andromeda would've been able to give any acceptable answer.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rodolphus asked as she passed by him in the main hall.

"If it were any your business, you'd know!" she snapped, pushing past him, heading back up to her bedroom. Despite the fuzziness still resonating in her head as a result of the wine, her head was clear. She knew what to do.

She would summon the Dark Lord after dinner.

She had something to tell Him.

* * *

A/N Hi! Sorry if you got alerts about replaced chapters. I realized the formatting appeared wonky when being looked at on a phone instead of a computer and tried to fix it.

This is the CONCLUSION of the first Augury Origin Tale (there are three, plus an epilogue that takes place after the Battle at Hogwarts). Chapter One of Part Two (LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD) is posted now.

I want to thank you for reading not only because I like getting Follow/Favorite Alerts, Reviews, and PMs, but because I am so rusty when it comes to writing fanfics and this one is dark in different ways than I've previously explored - I'm just appreciative of anyone giving this a chance. Thank you! *AL


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